


Mmmm Mexico

by ScrambledOvariesOnToast



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:17:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7078528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrambledOvariesOnToast/pseuds/ScrambledOvariesOnToast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunk Oliver tries to cook for an equally drunk Felicity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mmmm Mexico

It had been three months since Oliver’s battle the Darkh and the majority of the team’s departures. In that time an unlikely new friendship had been formed between Oliver and Felicity. It was easy, comfortable and nice; so completely different from the cold and depressing atmosphere that had surrounded them following the break-up.

Being friends with Felicity again felt wonderful to Oliver, like a part of him had been restored. Whilst he still ached to touch her, to have her in his arms, he still appreciated the moments that they shared. Comfortable conversation and little smiles, slowly walking back to each other. Baby steps.

Felicity had found it hard to cope with the events of the night where the nuclear bomb struck Havenrock. Knowing that she was responsible for the loss of tens of thousands of lives had not been easy to come to terms with, but it had definitely been easier with Oliver by her side. He was someone who’d known how it had felt to feel such deep and inconsolable guilt and he’d listened, held her whilst she cried, helped her to get it out of her system.

Their friendship was helping both of them to heal, slowly. It was just what they’d needed after the intense year that they’d had. The calm after the storm, the constant feeling of contentedness and comfort. They were finally at peace after a long and hard battle. 

Which leads to the present moment; three empty bottles of red wine and a quarter-full bottle of Russian vodka lie on the living room floor of the loft. Lying next to the bottles is Felicity, very drunk and very hungry. Slumped next to her is none other than Oliver Queen, maybe a little less drunk but still pretty smashed. Felicity’s glasses are askew on her pretty face and Oliver gently pushes them back into position when suddenly a growl emerges from the young blonde’s stomach.

“Ahhh, is someone hungry?” Oliver teases, eyebrows raised at the flushed blonde, mirth dancing in his flinty eyes.

“Maybe, I don’t think I’ve eaten since uhhhh, pfft I dunno this morning. Whaaat was I doing this morning?” 

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up, his eyes going dramatically wide. Usually he would have given her a scolding look but he was oh-so drunk and when he was drunk, he got theatrical.

“That is abominable! We need to do something about this uhhh situation, right now. TO THE KITCHEN!”

He shoots up, swaying a little as he stands and then offers a hand to his blonde companion who he drags to the kitchen. The kitchen is immaculate, Felicity still lives here but prefers to spend her time at the lair with Oliver, also not being well-known for her culinary skills, it wasn’t a surprise that the kitchen looked brand new.

“Why do you even have a kitchen, you don’t even use it. You should pack it up and bring it to me, put it in a poké ball and roll it over to me or something.” He says, opening and closing various cabinets.

“Nooooo Oliver, poke balls are used for these itty-bitty munchkin creatures that fight bad guys, you can’t put a kitchen in one.” Felicity shakes her head as he puts a half empty box of taco shells on the counter, when he turns to her.

“Okay buuuuut, I have a really cool idea. Instead of using my bow and arrow, I could totally throw a poke ball at the bad guys and mash them up with the power of the culinary arts!”

“Wow I didn’t know you had such an extensu- extensive vocabulary.”

He frowns at that, but then smiles and shakes his head.

“It comes with the vodka. Russians are wise.”

“Yeah and when I drink tequila I can speak Español. Hola tarado.” With a puzzled look, Oliver dismisses her jab with a wave of his hand.

“Thanks, but I think tequila is Mexican so why are you speaking French?”

“Mmmm Mexico, I want tacos.” Felicity licks her lips, tasting the sweet wine from earlier.

“YES! PERFECT IDEA, come with me Felicity I will take you on a journey to the south!” He lifts her up onto the kitchen island and turns back to the cabinets, rummaging through them like a squirrel digging for nuts.

“Wouldn’t that be like, Texas?”

“Yeah we’re making fried chicken, what did you thin- OH you wanted tacos!” He laughs, still rummaging through her cabinets.

“Yeah, tacos are crunchy and fun.”

“You know what else is crunch and fun, OH YES FRIED CHICKEN. Also we don’t have any meatballs so no tacos today Lissy.” 

“Meatballs?” She’s confused, at both meatballs in a taco and the bad nickname he’s just associated her with.

“AH but we have taco shells, oh I have an idea. I’m pretty sure this is revolutional. Felicity, get your camera out we’re making history.” He’s like an eccentric scientist, his mind’s buzzing (more from the alcohol than intelligent and innovative thoughts), he zips across the kitchen with a speed that rivals Barry’s.

“Why would you need meatballs in tacos?”

Oliver pours the taco shells into a ziplock bag, seals the bag and then whacks it with a mighty force with a rolling pin until the contents resemble dust. The noise makes Felicity grimace, sticking her fingers in her ears and squinting as she watches her friend obliterate five taco shells. 

“Someone should really sell taco dust, that noise was criminal.”

“What’s the fun in store-bought items Lissy? Let’s live life on the wild side, get dangerous.”

“Ha I’m pretty sure we already do that buddy.” He replies with a wink and then beats three eggs in a cereal bowl and setting it down onto the counter beside the taco dust plate.

“Do you have any chicken Lissy? UGH! What the heck?” He pulls out three soggy carrots and a bruised mandarin, Felicity just rolls her eyes (admittedly with a little difficulty) and points to the bin.

“I know where the bin is Lissy, I used to live here remember.” 

A brief moment of sadness washes over her, she knows that she missed him. She admitted that to herself a long time ago, but she also now realises how much she wants him back. Slowly now ‘Lissy’, it’s been going so well.

“Of course, just trying to help.” Oliver cocks his head at that, then he pulls her off of the island and next to him.

“Well if you’d wanted to help, why not ask. F is for friends who do stuff together. It’s also for fried chicken.” He proclaims proudly. If he thought he was Spongebob, then does that mean she’s Patrick?

“Eh, it’s better than watching you mess up the kitchen by yourself.” He wiggles his eyebrows at that and opens the fridge again. 

“Hmmmm, it seems there is no chicken. Lissy, what have I told you about a balanced diet. You need to eat protein otherwise you won’t grow.”

“Ol’ver I am twenty-five, it seems as if I have reached by maximum height.” He runs his eyes over her and shakes his head.

“Never mind, hmm let’s see what we have here then. Lemons, ginger, potatoes, eggs, milk, oranges OH. YES THIS IS THE STUFF!” Oliver slams down a whole broccoli onto the counter with a triumphant grin.

“What in the Google’s name are we going to do with a broccoli Oliver!?”

“We are going to fry it of course, southern style.”

“Mkay.” Felicity washes the broccoli in the sink as Oliver scans the cabinets again for any other ingredients. 

Once the broccoli is washed (half of it was broken and left in the sink from Felicity’s over-enthusiastic scrubbing) and dried, Oliver throws it into the egg mixture, bits of egg juice flying onto the countertops and onto Felicity’s glasses. 

“Ol’verr! My glasses!” Felicity squeals, her hand flying up to swipe off the egg off of her glasses. Oliver either didn’t hear her (impossible) or just chooses to ignore her as he sprinkles taco dust over the broccoli.

“Hmmm. It looks kinda boring, what should we add?” Felicity contemplates for a few seconds until an idea comes to her.

“SRIRACHA!”

Thirty minutes and several bad ingredients later, the once taco-dusted broccoli is baked in the oven and emerges brown and soggy.

“EUCK! Ol’ver I thought you had the power of the culinary arts?” 

“I have failed this broccoli.”

The putrid smell of overdone broccoli and something sugary fills the kitchen air, making Felicity gag and Oliver scrunch up his nose. The oven is turned off and Oliver tosses the broccoli into the trash.

“Damn Lissy I’m sorry, that smells probably gonna sit for a while.” He puts his hand on her shoulder, guiding her out of the kitchen quite steadily for his current state.

“S’okay, I don’t use the kitchen anyway.” He chuckles as they sit down on the couch, reflecting on their previous culinary creation. Oliver sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Damn, where’s that poké ball when you need one?”

Felicity giggles and rests her head on his arm, looking out at the Star City skyline.

“Hey Oliver, should we go get tacos.”

He turns to her with an incredible grin, “You’re remarkable, let’s get a cab.”, then leaps up, pulling her with him.

“Mmm tacos..”


End file.
